


give me a turnaround

by technicolouredmonochrome



Series: puppy!5sos [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Gen, Puppy Fic, in which 5sos are actual puppies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technicolouredmonochrome/pseuds/technicolouredmonochrome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s really strange, because that could mean either children or animals, and as far as he’s concerned, there shouldn’t <i>be</i> any children tugging on his pants. And he’s right, because as soon as he looks down, there’s a tiny little puppy yipping and nipping on the bottom of his trousers. It’s a small little thing, probably only the length of his forearm, and for something of that size it sure has a loud bark, because Ashton can hear it through the music.</p><p>In which 5sos are actual puppies, and Ashton sets out to collect them all (or more like: they find their own ways to Ashton, somehow or another, and it's simultaneously the best and worst decision of Ashton's life).</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me a turnaround

**Author's Note:**

> So I tried a little something, and I hope it works for people. Will probably update this weekly if I can find the time to finish subsequent chapters!

Mornings are kind of beautiful in a strange sort of way.

Ashton, being a creature of habit, takes the same route to work every single morning. Past the park a block away from his apartment, across the street, and along a row of small shops tucked away into the side of the road. His music is always turned up to an unhealthy volume (“Your _ears_ sweetheart, they’re going to be _ruined_ in the future,” he can hear his mum chiding), and especially as the cold begins to set in, the weather is comfortable enough that he doesn’t feel like melting in the hot summer sun, and yet it’s not too cold out yet that he has to bundle up when he so much as steps outside his door.

Today is no exception.

It's still warm enough out that Ashton only throws on his favourite maroon sweater over the white, pressed shirt that is his working uniform, and a bandana over his hair instead of the usual beanie. He's feeling particularly chipper today; maybe it's because the neighbours hadn't made a fucking loud racket last night and he'd actually managed to get a decent amount of sleep for once, or maybe it's because it’s finally stopped raining and he won't end up at the coffee shop with soaked sneakers. Whatever it is, this morning finds Ashton feeling kind of light as he makes his way to work.

He’s feeling light to the point that he doesn’t even get mad when the traffic light turns red as he gets there, just continues to drum along to the beat of the song against his thigh, offering a smile to the elderly lady standing next to him.

Then, he feels a tugging on his pants.

It’s really strange, because that could mean either children or animals, and as far as he’s concerned, there shouldn’t _be_ any children tugging on his pants. And he’s right, because as soon as he looks down, there’s a tiny little puppy yipping and nipping on the bottom of his trousers. It’s a small little thing, probably only the length of his forearm, and for something of that size it sure has a loud bark, because Ashton can hear it through the music.

The elderly lady waves at him and says something that has Ashton ripping off his headphones and apologizing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said,” she repeats kindly, “It looks like little Calum here has taken a shine to you.”

“Calum?” and it takes Ashton a moment before he goes, “Oh, you mean the dog.”

“Puppy actually, he’s going on three months now,” she tells him, looking fondly at the tiny thing still pulling on his pants leg.

“Yeah, he’s pretty cute,” and he leans down to pet it, earning a messy lick to his wrist for the effort.

“I was thinking of putting him up for adoption actually,” she continues. “I’m much too old to be taking care of such a young thing now, no energy to keep up with it.”

Ashton hums absentmindedly in response and keeps scratching Calum under the chin, and he quiets down as he puts his paws (tiny, cute, _adorable_ little paws) on Ashton’s knee, nosing at the material of his jeans.

“Unless you happen to know of someone that’ll take him?”

It’s ridiculous, because Ashton almost immediately says, _“I’ll take him”_ in response, and has to snap his mouth shut to keep the words from spilling out. “Uh,” he tells her instead, taking a small paw into his hand as he rubs a thumb through Calum’s fur, “I could ask around I guess.”

“Oh would you? That’d be wonderful.” She takes out a small slip of paper, with a number on it, and Ashton takes it from her, carefully dislodging the small puppy from where he’d wiggled onto his thigh. “Such a kind young man, isn’t he Calum?” to which he barks and starts scrabbling at Ashton’s pants leg again.

“I’ll give you a call if I find anyone who wants to adopt him yeah,” and with that, he gives them both a wave and starts across the street. The lady waves back, but once Calum realizes Ashton’s gone for good, he goes from a exuberant little guy to the saddest thing in the world, ears and tail drooping, as he flattens himself to the ground.

Even though Ashton pulls his headphones over his ears, he can still hear sad little whimpers through _Are We The Waiting_ that’s blasting at almost full volume. _Don’t look_ back, he tells himself, because Ashton is someone who knows that he has a weakness (namely: large, watery puppy dog eyes) and actively avoids it. _Don’t you fucking_ dare _look back_.

Except he does, once he’s on the other side of the crossing, and he almost can’t see the old lady and Calum anymore through the sea of people that are streaming by, but he _can_ make out a small, upset ball of fur pressed against the pavement.

It makes his heart break.

Later, he blames it on the puppy dog eyes, and on the fact that his insides are actually made of mush (plus he’s always been a sucker for cute adorable little dogs). He only makes it a block before he’s turning around, sprinting back to the traffic light and upsetting a bunch of commuters in the process. “Sorry,” he calls out to someone he almost trips up, and earns an upset grunt and a murmured “ _Fucking kids_ ” in response.

The moment his feet hit the pavement, he can’t find the old lady and he thinks he’s missed his chance, but then there’s a happy yip and a brown bundle of fur comes streaking through the sea of legs to start pawing at Ashton’s jeans, greeting him with barks and happy nuzzles. A businessman talking on his phone is almost tripped up by Calum, and throws him a threatening look. It has Ashton scooping Calum up and cuddling him close protectively.

“Oh hello,” the lady says, cutting through the crowds to get to where Calum is lapping at Ashton’s face. “He wouldn’t move once you’d left, just stayed here and sulked like the spoilt little brat he is,” she chuckles.

“I’ll take him.”

She looks up at him in surprise, but gives him an understanding smile nonetheless. “He’s hard to keep away from isn’t he?”

Ashton grins in response and cuddles the puppy closer, burying his face in his fur. Calum is just happy with the attention and fits himself neatly underneath Ashton’s chin, making adorable little snuffling noises.

He gives the nice old lady (“Call me Courtney dear”) his number and tells her he’ll drop by tonight after work to pick up Calum’s stuff (and the puppy has a favorite _teddy bear_ ; Ashton is so whipped). Then, he thinks about calling in sick for working once he has Calum, tucked safely against his chest, wriggling around and trying to bury his head into crook of Ashton’s arm. “Easy there,” he laughs, and then decides that Louise, the owner of the coffee shop he works at, will be kind enough not to kick him or the puppy out.

He’s almost right.

“Ashton!” she screams the moment Calum goes streaking into the shop, excited at the new surroundings, winding his way below tables and chairs. Thank god for early morning starts because the coffee shop is still empty. “What the actual fuck?”

“Watch your language,” he scolds, scooping Calum up when he comes bounding back to Ashton, all happy and exuberant in a way only a puppy can be. “He’s still a baby.”

“We’re not keeping him,” she tells him immediately. “Now go put him back wherever you found him and come help me start up the coffee machines.”

“But Louise,” he whines, giving her the saddest expression he can manage (which, unfortunately, is not effective at _all_ ). “Lou, look at him. Just _look_.”

And then he holds Calum in front of him, and almost on cue, Calum flattens his ears against his head, widens his eyes and gives Louise the saddest look he can manage (which is pretty damn _sad_ , Ashton would know).

“Just tell that face no Lou. Go ahead, tell him _no_.”

The words die on Louise’s tongue, and Ashton watches her falter, her resolve wavering. Ashton knows Calum’s won.

Five minutes later finds Calum sniffing around the potted plant, occasionally turning to look woefully at Ashton who is stuck behind the counter stacking cups and wiping down the counters. “He better not pee and shit everywhere,” Louise warns him. “Otherwise you’re gonna be working overtime sanitizing the whole fucking shop,” to which Ashton murmurs “ _Language_ ”. But she still drops a biscuit when she passes Calum by, giving in and reaching down to pet him when he whines at the lack of attention.

The bell at the door chimes, and Dylan walks in. “Holy fuck,” and he stops short in the doorway. “Holy _shit_. We got a shop dog now?”

“ _Language_ ,” Ashton calls over the counter, finally putting aside his apron and pushing open the gate that’s separating the back of the counter from the open area. Calum bounds over to him immediately and starts scrabbling at his leg for attention again. Ashton obliges him (because how can he not?), reaching down to give him a scratch under the chin before starting work on the tables and chairs.

“Don’t tell me it’s because of the dog.”

“ _Puppy_ ,” Ashton corrects him with a glare. “And _yes_. He’s only a month old, so don’t swear around him.”

“I can’t believe Lou let you keep a dog in here,” Dylan says with a shake of his head, setting down his stuff and starting work on the nearest table. “What’d you have to do to get her to say yes? Don’t tell me you sold her your soul Irwin.”

“I didn’t have to do anything, Lou made the decision all by herself.”

They both turn to see her feeding Calum another biscuit, cooing at him when he yips his thanks and pushes his head under her hand for a pet.

“She’s _whipped_ Irwin. How the hell did you manage that?”

“Told you, I didn’t do anything.”

Calum comes bounding towards them again, happy that Ashton is finally within reach, and paws at his pants leg asking for more cuddles. Ashton just gives him a quick pet before apologizing (“Sorry buddy, gotta get back to work”), while Dylan starts murmuring about “Everyone _losing_ it.”

When Ashton emerges from the kitchen later with a set of towels to wipe the tables down with, he finds Dylan with his arms full of puppy, cooing happily as Calum laps at his face.

He tosses a towel at Dylan’s face and grins at him. “No, no Irwin. You don’t get to say a word. Your puppy is very persuasive. Only someone with no soul can say no to that face.”

Ashton laughs, gives Calum a thumbs-up over Dylan’s shoulder and turns the sign on the door to _open_.

The morning rush is as it usually is, with the added chaos of a puppy thrown into the mix. Calum greets everyone as happily and as enthusiastically as he had greeted Ashton that morning, ducking under legs and giving everyone happy yips and loud barks as the crowds swell. Thank god New Yorkers are as nonchalant with dogs as they are with everything else, and save the occasional person leaning down to give Calum a pet or a quick scratch, they mostly just tread a bit more carefully as the queue shuffles along.

By noon the crowds have mostly cleared out, and Ashton takes the chance to lean against the counter and catch his breath. It takes a minute before Ashton notices that the shop is quiet and suspiciously lacking a small, chocolate-colored dog.

His hunt around the shop brings him to the table tucked away in a corner, with Calum curled up on the pillow, letting out soft little wheezing noises as he sleeps.

“Must’ve tired himself out from the morning rush huh,” Dylan says from somewhere across the shop. “Look at his tiny little paws all tucked under him. Look at his tiny little nose twitching.”

Ashton just shakes his head. “Who’s whipped now?”

“Hey,” and there’s a quiet thump as a table cloth lands at the next table. “You’re one to talk.” All they get in response is a disgruntled snuffle.

The rest of the afternoon goes by quietly enough, save the few children that gather outside the shop window and press their faces against the glass as they watch Calum sleep.

He finally wakes up around six, when the next wave of customers comes through the doors. After letting out the most adorable little yawn ever (to which the kids outside the glass window chorus a muffled “ _D’awwww_ ”), he leaps off the table and starts his usual greetings, albeit a little exhaustedly.

“Is he being put up for adoption?” a lady asks later in the evening, her daughter squealing in delight as Calum runs laps around her.

“No,” Ashton says, perhaps a tad too protectively, because the lady holds her hands up and chuckles out a quick apology. Calum just barks when the little girl catches his tail.

When both mother and daughter have left, Ashton makes sure to tell Calum, “You’re not being put up for adoption”, and starts work on a sign that says _dog is not for sale_. He puts it up on the doorway during his next break.

“You’re seriously gonna keep that little bugger around aren’t you?” Louise asks him when the day is done and they’re packing up the shop. Calum is curled up on the table that he’d claimed for his own, yawning sleepily. Ashton sympathizes with him; today must’ve been a pretty eventful day for such a small guy.

But even as he agrees, he’s running the numbers in his head, because holy fuck that’s gonna be a whole lot of extra expenses on his plate.

“I’m surprised you can afford it,” she mentions casually, going over to Calum and picking him up, jolting him awake. “You’re gonna be an expensive little guy for Ashton aren’t you?”

And expensive he is. The weekend rolls around and Ashton decides to make a trip to the vet as well as the nearby pet store to pick up some proper puppy food, because the pack he’d taken from Courtney didn’t have much left to begin with.

The vet turns out to be this really nice guy, who has the nametag _Summers_ pinned to his white coat.

“Calum,” he says and tries to catch him before he crawls his way back to Ashton again. “Come on buddy, just wanna get a quick blood sample.”

Somehow, Calum manages to wiggle his way out of Dr. Summer’s hold before crawling his way back to Ashton again, asking for more cuddles as he tucks himself underneath Ashton’s chin.

Ashton caves (no surprise there), giving him a quick hug before picking him up and trying to pass him over to Dr. Summers.

“Courtney told me he’s got all his shots already, so he won’t need those right?” Ashton asks worriedly, scratching Calum in his favorite spot under his chin. It gets Calum settled almost immediately,

“Nope, don’t worry Mr. Irwin,” Dr. Summers placates him. “Today, we’re only taking a bit of blood from him, just to check if he’s got anything else.”

Ashton’s worrying like a mother hen, he’s aware, but he can’t help it. Calum is his _baby_ , all big puppy eyes that look at him like he’s the world, and always crawling his way into the warmest parts of Ashton’s bed when they go to sleep at night, which usually means Ashton wakes up with a ball of fur curled under his chin.

Right now, Calum can’t sit still because he’s excited to be somewhere new, which means that he just wags his tail and settles in as Ashton continues to pet him. It also means that he completely does not expect it when Dr. Summers starts to draw blood.

One minute Calum’s batting at Ashton’s finger, and the next minute he’s pressed against the table top and whining pathetically. Ashton’s heart breaks at the sight.

“It’s okay buddy, just a little bit more,” he tells Calum, who just gives him the saddest, most betrayed puppy dog eyes ever.

“All done,” Dr. Summers tells him and lets him go. Calum immediately bounds out of his hold and cuddles into Ashton’s chest, making sad, whimpering noises. Ashton just cradles him close and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Is that all?”

“Yep, we’re all done here. I’ll mail you the results when they’re out. If there’s anything that requires immediate attention, you’ll get a call from us.”

Ashton heaves a sigh of relief. He doesn’t think he can take it if he has to sit through more needles being pushed into Calum. “Thank you so much doctor,” he tells him, and picks Calum up. “Hopefully we’ll only need to see you next year.”

“Hopefully!” Dr. Summers replies with a wave. “See you Ashton, goodbye Calum!”

All Calum does is bury his head in Ashton’s arms as they walk out of the room.

The bill is kind of ridiculous, but Ashton swallows the worry and convinces himself that he’s _okay_. Besides, the miserable state that Calum’s in is more than enough distraction from the numbers that are reeling through his head. He’s a quivering ball of fur buried in Ashton’s arms, and despite Ashton whispering apologies to him (“I’m so sorry buddy, it’s okay now, I’m so sorry”) he doesn’t respond except to give an unhappy snuffle. A couple of passerbys throw Ashton strange glances, looking at him like he’s lost his mind. But Ashton pays them no mind, just cuddles Calum closer and presses another kiss to the top of his head.

 

The pet store is only a block away, and by the time they get there, Calum perks up a little, tentatively sniffing at the surroundings. The blue-haired lady at the counter grins at Ashton and offers them a chirpy “Hello!” which Ashton returns with a smile.

Calum starts squirming in his arms, and Ashton knows that’s his cue to put him down. He shoots off into the aisle the minute his feet touch the ground, and Ashton just feels relieved that Calum’s back to his usual self.

The lady lets out a quiet laugh. “Just came back from the vet?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says, watching as Calum starts to paw at some of the displays.

“Thought he looked a little down when you first came in,” she tells him with a grin. “I’m guessing you’re looking for puppy supplies?”

“Just food.”

There are like, _thousands_ of different types of food for puppies. Ashton sits there as Samantha (“Please, call me Sam; _everyone_ does”) explains the differences between the food, and his head is reeling from all the new information. In short: he has no idea what to get. He decides to call Calum over and put him in front of the various bags of food, and ends up buying the bag that Calum noses at.

While he’s paying however, Calum rushes off into one of the aisles, and when Ashton calls him back, comes trotting out with a soccer ball stuffed toy in his mouth. “Put it back Calum,” Ashton tells him. But Calum just sits there and stares up at him with the ball still in his mouth. “No Calum,” he says again, but his resolve is cracking. “We can’t afford it buddy.”

“It’s on the house,” Sam tells him with a grin as she leans over the counter. “You really like that ball, don’t you?” Calum replies with a muffled yip.

Ashton just sighs and leans down to give him a pet. “Everyone’s spoiling you,” to which Sam just laughs.

“Look at that face, I’m surprised anyone can say _no_ to him.”

So that’s how Ashton ends up with Calum running circles around the room chasing the tiny soccer ball. He sets up a makeshift goalpost, using an old net and a chair, and Calum’s surprisingly good at nudging the ball into the goalpost.

“Goal!” Ashton yells, picking Calum up giving him a hug, before leaning forward and looking at him, eye to eye. “High five buddy.”

Calum obediently lifts a paw and bumps it against Ashton’s outstretched palm. Ashton lets out another whoop, and Calum barks happily at him.

He still follows Ashton to work every morning, straining excitedly at his leash as they walk to the coffee shop. Now Ashton doesn’t listen to much music anymore, because he’s kind of terrified that he won’t be able to hear Calum if something happens to him. _Calum is a good influence on me_ , he muses to himself as he pushes the door to the shop open, undoing the leash and letting Calum bound into the shop to greet Louise.

The table in the far corner of the room is now, unofficially, _Calum’s_ table. All the regulars avoid it and no longer ask about the weird little cushion thing that is lining the tabletop. When school lets out, there is always a group of children that stand by the window to watch Calum take his afternoon nap, and they disperse once Calum’s awake and has given them his usual greeting: a messy lick to the window.

Louise loves Calum, stocking up the kitchen with puppy food and buying a few toys for him. (Ashton knows it’s to help him with the cost, and he’s ridiculously grateful for that.) Dylan _adores_ Calum, and spends most of his free time attempting to teach the puppy to _fetch_. It isn’t going well, but Dylan’s convinced that it’ll work out.

One evening, when the day’s over and they are packing up, there is a loud _crash_ from somewhere in the shop that has all three of them rushing out from behind the counter. They find Calum near the potted plant in the shop with the pot in pieces and dirt scattered all over the floor.

“Calum!” Ashton sighs, part exasperated and part out of worry. “Are you alright?”

Calum goes willingly into Ashton’s arms, and thankfully, doesn’t seem to be hurt. Just shook up from the loud noise and abashed at being caught. “Don’t scare me like that again,” Ashton scolds, and Calum licks his chin as his way of saying sorry, and Ashton just tucks him under his arm with another sigh.

“I hated the old thing anyway,” Louise says a beat later, as the three of them stare at the broken remains of the plant. “But _Irwin_ is going to stay back to clean this mess up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ashton replies with a salute, earning himself a glare and a sympathetic pat on the back from Dylan. Holding Calum a little tighter despite his wriggling (“You’re _not_ going to tread dirt into the floor Cal”), he starts in on the mess.

By the time he’s done, it’s almost dark out, and he leans against the counter to catch his breath.

“Rough day huh?” and Calum barks his agreement. Ashton just gives him a fond smile and scratches him below the chin. “Come on buddy. Let’s go home.”


End file.
